


Oral Fixation

by ReturnToFiction



Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: Blowjobs, JakexRay, M/M, Oral Fixation, Perholta, RayxJake, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-24
Updated: 2020-09-24
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:54:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26637676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ReturnToFiction/pseuds/ReturnToFiction
Summary: Jake Peralta has an oral fixation, i.e he likes to put things in his mouth—pens, his thumb, his boss’ dick. Whatever works, right?
Relationships: Ray Holt & Jake Peralta, Ray Holt/Jake Peralta
Comments: 2
Kudos: 108





	Oral Fixation

**Author's Note:**

> [I do not own Brooklyn-99 or any of the characters in this story. This is a non-commercial, fair-use work.]

It starts with a blue ink-stain. Jake is sat at his desk, filling out a report, the end of his pen between his lips. He appears to be unaware of his mouthing as he continues his work, gently toying with the plastic and—at some point—biting a bit too hard. It's Captain Holt that points this out.

“Your pen is leaking, Peralta,” Holt intones, approaching Jake’s desk and tugging the Bic from between his detective’s lips. “Stationary does not belong in your mouth.”

At the desk that backs onto Jake’s, Amy sits up straighter. “Please tell me I misheard,” she implores. “You better not be using anything of mine, Peralta. Yuck!”

Jake takes the pen back from Holt and looks at it closely for a moment; it has a sticker-label with 'Santiago' on it. When he glances up again, shame-faced, Amy is scowling.

“Sorry, Amy. I’ll buy you a new one,” Jake says sincerely—he knows how seriously Amy takes her stationary. Then, he turns to look up at his commanding officer, who's still looming over him.

“Go wash that ink off in the bathroom, Peralta. You are not leaving this precinct until you are presentable,” Holt scolds, and Jake jumps up from his seat. He's scheduled to work a stake-out with Charles that evening and he doesn’t want to risk missing it.

As Jake ambles off to the bathroom, Holt watches him go, resisting the urge to roll his eyes in fond exasperation.

*

The next incident occurs less than a week later at nearly ten pm. The rest of the squad’s gone home, leaving Jake and the Captain to interrogate a suspected murderer who isn’t inclined to co-operate.

Jake’s hurtling towards breaking point—none of his methods are working, and if they don’t get something solid soon then they’re going to have to let the guy walk. On Holt’s recommendation, Jake steps outside for a minute to get some air.

It’s not exactly dark out, not with the ever-present lights of New York City illuminating the sky, but it’s still obviously evening. Jake suddenly becomes aware of how tired he is. Wearily, he presses his back against the brick wall of the precinct’s balcony and slides down until he’s sitting on the cold concrete. Then, he pulls his knees up to his chest, wraps one arm around them, and draws his other hand closer to his face. That’s how Captain Holt finds him five minutes later: sat on the floor with his thumb in his mouth, staring across the city with an expression of concentration.

When Jake realizes that his boss has joined him, he removes his thumb from his mouth and scrambles to his feet, a moderately triumphant look on his face.

“I think I’ve got it, Sir. I know how we’re gonna break him!” Jake exclaims, and Holt gives him what could be a smile, a frown, or a mocking look—Jake can never tell.

“Good, let’s get back in there, then. One thing first, though.” Holt reaches out and wraps his fingers around Jake’s wrist, bringing it up between them. “Your fingers do not belong in your mouth, Peralta. It’s unhygienic.” His tone is more matter-of-fact than stern, but Jake pouts a little, anyway.

“Fine, fine. No stationary, no thumb. Got it. Can we go and grill this guy now?” Jake huffs.

“Lead the way.”

*

The next day, Jake is certain that he’s hacked it.

He rocks up to work a mere ten minutes late and slides into the morning briefing, nodding at Terry—who is addressing the squad—as he does. Terry gives Jake an exasperated look but says nothing, choosing instead to continue his briefing.

Behind the Sarge, Captain Holt is stood with his arms crossed, giving Jake a deeply unimpressed look. Jake thinks it’s a rather futile gesture; he’s been late almost every day for the past seven years, and a dirty look from his boss isn’t likely to change that.

Since he has the Captain’s attention, Jake decides to put his plan into action. He reaches inside his jacket pocket and pulls out a bright red lollipop wrapped in clear plastic. As quietly as he can, he unwraps the plastic, shoving it into his pocket with a small crinkling noise. He keeps his eyes on the Captain as he does so, worried that if he looks away then Holt will, too.

With the wrapper disposed of and Holt’s attention still on him, Jake pushes the lollipop into his mouth, making quite a show of wrapping his lips around it. Then, he raises his eyebrows at Holt, daring him to say something; after all, stationary and thumbs may not belong in one’s mouth but candy does.

Pleased with his clear victory, Jake maintains his eye-contact with Holt, swirling his tongue around the treat and generally going to town on it.

It takes him approximately ten more seconds to realize how sexual the display is. Jake pauses mid-suck and Holt raises an eyebrow at him. It’s all the encouragement Jake needs to resume his sucking, and he swears that he sees Holt give him a tiny, devious smile. It could be the sugar-rush making him imagine things, though.

The sound of chairs scraping draws Jake back to reality; the briefing had finished without Jake even realizing it. He stands too and is halfway to the door when the Captain calls him back. Jake comes to stand by him as everyone else files out. Only when they are alone does Holt start to speak.

“You know that I disapprove of tardiness, Peralta. If you were late because you were buying candy then I will be most unimpressed.”

Jake is reluctant to take the lollipop from his mouth, so he shrugs instead of speaking. When Holt’s expression darkens, Jake can’t help smiling around the treat. It’s this that sets Holt into motion.

Reaching up, Holt wraps his hand around the little white stick and tugs, but Jake clamps his teeth together, preventing the lollipop from being pulled from his mouth.

“Open up, Peralta. Now,” Holt says lowly, but Jake shakes his head. Then, Holt reaches up with his other hand and pinches the detective’s nose. Jake knows that he’ll have to open his mouth very soon or he’ll run out of oxygen, but he’s stubborn enough to wait until the last second. When he does give in, opening his mouth and gasping, Holt takes the lollipop with a satisfied expression.

“While candy does belong in the mouth, it does not belong in morning briefings,” Holt says smugly, turning around and throwing the lollipop in the trash.

“What am I supposed to put in my mouth, then?” Jake huffs, throwing his arms in the air. Holt smirks, and he does so openly, so that Jake can easily decipher the expression.

“We’ll think of something. Are you busy tonight, Peralta?”

Jake's brain goes into overdrive, trying to work out exactly what is happening and all of the possible ways he could respond. He thinks he knows what’s going on, but he would need to be sure, and the only way to be sure is to ask.

“Are you propositioning me?” he asks calmly, though he looks at the knot of Holt’s tie rather than at his face.

“Yes, if you would like me to be,” Holt replies in his usual no-nonsense tone.

Jake finally gathers the courage to look back up and meet his boss’ eyes; when he sees the flicker of hunger in them, Jake gulps.

“Cool, cool, cool, cool, cool. I mean, yeah, I’m free tonight, for, um, that,” Jake finishes lamely, but Holt seems satisfied.

“Good. Come by my place for nine, and _do not_ be late.”

“Yes, Sir.”

*

After a drink to ease the nerves, Jake follows his boss upstairs and into his bedroom. It’s more cozy in there than Jake had expected, but then again, Jake had once assumed that Holt was a robot who plugged himself into a charger each night. So really, anything was going to be a surprise for the detective.

Pushing thoughts of robotics from his mind, Jake turns to face Holt, giving him a questioning look. He assumes that, as with work, Holt’s in charge here. It appears that he’s right as, in response, Holt sits down on the edge of the bed and points to the floor in front of him. Going off of instinct, Jake kneels, bracketed by his boss’ legs.

“So, tonight,” Holt starts, running a hand through Jake’s hair, “I thought we’d work on this oral fixation of yours. So far, you’ve had three lessons on what’s inappropriate to put in your mouth. Tonight, you’ll have your first lesson on what is. Does that sound good to you?”

Jake’s eyes are fixated on his captain’s crotch as he nods. Holt follows the detective gaze and reaches down to unbutton his trousers; there was no sense in delaying what was sure to be a valuable lesson.

Jake licks his lips as he watches Holt push his trousers and boxers down slightly, revealing his already half-hard cock.

“Do you know what to do, or would you like a little guidance?” Holt asks, and Jake assumes this is his way of asking if Jake had done this before.

“Show me how you like it,” Jake replies, even though it doesn’t answer Holt’s unspoken question—he’s allowed to maintain a little bit of mystery, after all.

The captain seems pleased with Jake’s answer and settles his hands on either side of Jake’s head. “Start with the tip,” he breathes and Jake leans in, shutting his eyes and getting to work. He uses a hand to guide it into his mouth, and keeps it there while he swirls his tongue around the head of Holt’s cock. Jake feels it swell in his mouth, getting harder as he works. Jake feels a small burst of pride.

“Okay, take a bit more,” Holt guides, “and use your hand.”

Jake sinks down further and does as he’s told, moving his hand up and down as he works, bobbing his head in a steady rhythm. Above him, Holt sucks in a breath and his fingers tighten in Jake’s hair. Jake takes this as his cue to sink deeper.

Unfortunately, Jake's own erection is being ignored and he finds himself pushing his hips forward into nothingness. Holt notices his detective’s struggle and pulls him gently off of his cock, making Jake open his eyes. Wordlessly, Holt rearranges them slightly so that one of his legs is in-between Jake’s, and Jake catches on almost immediately.

The angle is very slightly awkward, but Jake doesn’t care. He ducks his head to take Holt in his mouth again and, as he does so, rolls his hips against his boss’ leg. The pressure is a glorious relief and Jake can’t help but moan slightly around the cock in his mouth.

Holt’s hands are back in Jake’s hair, tugging gently, guiding. Jake gives up on maintaining self-control and starts to roll his hips faster.

“Good boy, Jake. Would you like to come like this? With my cock in your mouth? Without me even touching you?”

A shiver of arousal runs through Jake as he takes Holt’s cock as deep into his mouth as it’ll go. He’s close, he can feel it building. He doesn’t want to come before Holt, though, so he doubles his fellatio-efforts, and is rewarded by a small jerk of his boss’ hips. Jake knows that Holt’s nearly there, too.

Holt is gentleman enough to warn Jake that he’s about to finish, but Jake shakes his head, sucking tightly as Holt’s hips jerk again.

“Good boy, Peralta. That’s it, swallow for me. Good boy.”

Swallowing, Jake’s pulls off and rests his head atop Holt’s thigh, still moving his hips—his boss may be done, but he’s not. He’s so close, though, and a small murmur of encouragement from Holt has Jake crying out.

After a few minutes of basking in the afterglow, Jake opens his eyes and looks up to find Holt smiling down at him.

“Nicely done, Peralta.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

**Author's Note:**

> Back at it again with the perholta. 
> 
> Much love, my darlings <3


End file.
